Chances
by TiKiElf
Summary: When Lizzie is involved in an accident, how will the lives of the people around her changes? Leaning more to L/G.
1. Chapter 1

Author: TiKiElf

Title: Chances.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own Lizzie McGuire, any of the characters or the show. But if I do, it wouldn't have been only 2 seasons. 

Author's note: Non so far but this is a revised version. Not much changes though. And please, do try to bear with me if the story is going too slow or the updates are very few. The writing fanfics life does not seem to agree with me. Drop by a review! :o)

   The room isn't a place that he was used to, but he still recognized it. It was almost exactly how the television usually depicts it; whitewashed walls, gray plastic furniture, white cotton linen bed sheet and the dizzying smell of gauze and medication. But then again, it's not like any television show at all because things will not be expected to end in happily ever after or once in a lifetime miracles. And by the end of the day, there's no director to say, "that's a wrap" or any casts and crew to begin with. Because this is real life, and if either way he could escape it, he just… can't. 

    David Gordon stood in the doorway, not daring enough to step in but not willing to identify himself as a coward for running away. His eyes were set upon the little machine in the corner of the dimmed room, strained to see the glowing green line. And his ears perked to listen to the continuous detached beep from the machine. But somehow, he just can't bring himself to look over at the bed. To see the real reason that he had been standing there in the doorway for too many minutes than he could be bothered to count. The very reasons that his legs are growing numb, for his eyes are growing tired and red, and for his fingers to itched to touch something – someone.

   He had heard the soft tiptoeing sound of a pair of flats on the cold marble floor long before it gradually came to a stop next to him. There was an exhale of breath before a voice finally broke the silent trance that he was in.

   "You know she'll be okay, right?" 

    He turned his head slightly to the dark-haired next to him. Miranda Sanchez didn't look back but instead had kept her eyes straight into the room. The whites of her eyes and her nose were red and he could see a damp trail of tears streaked down her cheeks. He notices that she kept fingering the bracelet on her wrist – their friendship bracelet – and she only does this when she's worried. Gordo let out a heavy sigh.

   " I don't know what to think anymore."

    Her head snapped to look at him so quickly that her dark hair slapped him in the face. Her eyes narrowed at him in disbelief, and the bracelet on her wrist was immediately forgotten.

    " How can you say that? She's our best friend… and… and you don't _know?!_"

     Gordo turned his head to look at her squarely in the eyes, and for the first time in her life, Miranda saw that it was red and pooled with unshed tears. Gordo had never cried for all the times she had known him, and to see him like this… Miranda understood.

     " She isn't okay. And if she were, she wouldn't be lying there on that bed and we won't be here… pitying her and worrying ourselves!"

     Miranda tried attentively to hold him, even just to touch his shoulder. But he had turned away to stare into the room back again, his shoulder slumped and his dark curly hair fell lifelessly against his pale skin.

    " And I wasn't even there when it happened. I've known her all my life… and I could've lost her in a second. And I weren't there…" he whispered, fearing that Miranda might hear his voice breaking and see that his shields crumbling.

    " Look, Gordo, I know that I haven't known Lizzie as long as you do but… we all could've lost her. But we didn't, and we should be just as thankful that she's still here." 

     There was a moment of silence, both lost in their own state of mind, before Miranda stepped into the room. She looked back at Gordo with her hand reached out to him, gesturing him to join her. But he kept to where he was and shook his head rigidly.

    " Come on Gordo. If you don't do this now… when? Until she could walk by herself and greet you at the door? I don't think so."

    Miranda took a step towards him, her hand trying to find his but instead, he had stepped back out of the doorway; his shoulder stiff and his hands clenched into fists. 

   " No, I can't. Not now."

    Miranda looked at him dejectedly, her hand dropped beside her. 

   " I think I'll go and find some drinks. I'll be back later."

   But he had no intention to get some drinks or be back here again before tomorrow afternoon. He backed out clearly out of the doorway and turned to walk off down the corridor when he accidentally bumped into someone. He muttered an apology under his breath without looking up to the person and turned to walk away when Miranda's voice stopped him.

   " Mrs. McGuire."


	2. Chapter 2

Author: TiKiElf

Title: Chances – Chapter 2

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own Lizzie McGuire, any of the characters or the show. Please continue with regular day life.

Author's note: This is definitely a long shot coming. Sorry if it took so long for those who are interested to follow this story (which so far in none!). I'd like to thank all those who reviewed! You guys are like the demolisher when I ran straight on into a writer's block. Thank you for bringing down the wall! Drop by another review please! :o)

     The green exit sign glared at him like a pair of hypnotic green eyes of a serpent from across the corridor, as the exit door tempts him to pound his fists at it and push his body through it. But somehow, he didn't move. He can't because that would be disrespectful. Not when her mother is there. 

    " Hey Gordo. When did you get back?" 

     He turned around, trying to pull the muscles in his cheek so that the tiniest of smile could be seen.

   " Hey Mrs. McGuire. Just two hours ago actually."

    There was a faint glimmer of pity and concern for him in her eyes, and he looked away ruefully.

    " Does your parents know you're here? Wouldn't your parents be worried?" 

    The distress in her voice made him feel guilty for making her worry so much, when she has enough things on her mind. And he shook his head.

     " No…"

    He saw Miranda stepping away from the door curiously, and had walked into his line of view, just a little to Mrs. McGuire's left. 

     " But I was just going to call them and tell them I'll be late."

    Miranda's eyes widen with surprise and he looked away; a dull pulsing anger was throbbing against his head. 

   " So… you're staying?" 

     He looked back at Mrs. McGuire and saw the desperate half-surprise and half-hopeful look on her face. The guilt that had been earlier stirred inside of him was now stretching farther away from his grasp of control. He felt obligated to stay; yet he was anxious to get away from it all, especially when he was strongly reminded of Lizzie's lively face whenever he looked at her mother. And without realizing what he was doing, his head bobbed up and down faintly as a yes, with a thin line of regret etched on his forehead. 

   " Oh… that would be wonderful! I'm sure Lizzie would love to see you when she wakes up. She had missed you so much over the summer. Wouldn't even let us use the telephone in case you called…."

   Mrs. McGuire droned on hopefully that it was almost impossible not to cringe at the anxiousness in her voice. Gordo tried to listen and had smiled and nodded at the appropriate time, but he was barely registering what she was saying. Behind Mrs. McGuire, he met Miranda's dark eyes, and he knew that she was just as anxious as he was but as hopeful as Mrs. McGuire. And despite the uncertain and wobbly future that lay behind the door, they had shared a brief thin smile, knowing all to well when Mrs. McGuire was rambling.

   "…in fact, why don't I just call up your parents for you, Gordo? I think it would be better for them to hear from an adult."

   She smiled down at him and he tried to look as if he had been intently listening to her. 

  " Well… I don't mind but – "

    Before he could protest modestly, Mrs. McGuire had quickly walked the little distance between them and had pulled him in a brief tight hug. Gordo, caught off guard at such motherly affection from her, exchanged an alarm look with Miranda – she had shrugged helplessly.

    " I'm so glad you're here Gordo."

   Her voice was thick with unshed tears and he knew without looking that her face would be red with the strain to keep her emotions in check – just like Lizzie. 

   She let go of him and gave out a sniffle, as he nodded feebly and had tried to give a reassuring smile without meeting her eyes – Lizzie had gotten her beautiful eyes from her too.  

   " Well… uh… I think I should call my parents. They would want to hear from me," he said weakly, not tearing his eyes away from the white marble floor beneath his shoe. He had resumed his pace down the corridor without waiting for Mrs. McGuire reply, turning his back to her, Miranda and the room; with both hands stuck deep in his cargo pants pockets, head bent low and his shaggy black hair draping his forehead, hiding his eyes. 

   He walked the length of the corridor aimlessly, not knowing where to go or where the nearest public phones were (he might as well call them now) when his eyes caught sight of the green exit sign again. It flashes at him mockingly, as if taunting him of his failure to escape from the place and the horrible truth that lies in his comatose best friend. He glared back at it longingly before turning a sharp left to another corridor that leads to the nurse's station and the vending machine: he could ask the nurse for direction and buy himself a chocolate bar. 

  When he had reached the nurse's station, it was bare of any white-uniformed clad women. Grumblingly, he made his way to the vending machine only to discover that it was out of order. He cried out through gritted teeth at the machine, pounding it with his fists in hope that perhaps it could be restored to order. Of course it didn't, but the pain that was now shooting through his bruised fists had been… comforting. He banged at the machine with his fists again, kicking it with all his might and slamming his body against it until he felt physically drained. He was angry. Angry at the world for making some lousy machines, at the inefficiency of nurses' services… and also for letting Lizzie go through what she has to now – devoid of the life in her that he so much adored – and threaten to take her away from her family, her life and him. It would've been selfish of him to say that but she's what matters to him. He had never tried to imagine a day without her existence beside him for all his life, but having to consider it? It was a pain – a heart-depth pain. 

   Without realizing it, the tears pooled in his eyes once again, brimming to the edge of his eyelids and barely a blink away from a trail down his face. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the vending machine… and blinked. It would've been useless to try to act like a man now, if he had to act as unfeeling as one as well. 


End file.
